


Good For Me

by dedougal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Derek, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 09:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles is home early, Derek knows just how to take advantage of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good For Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laraneia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laraneia/gifts).



> One year ago today, I posted my first ever Teen Wolf fic as a birthday present for Laraneia. She was the one who said to watch and I'm forever grateful that she did, for all it took me most of six months to write anything after I'd watched it. So happy birthday, Laraneia! Hope you have a wonderful day.

Derek would say that Stiles does it on purpose to wind him up except for the fact that Stiles doesn’t know he’s watching. Of course, if Stiles catches him, there will be references to the fact Derek is a creeper and then Stiles will get weirdly nostalgic about all the times Derek snuck in his window and threatened him. Then they’ll have sex.

Actually, most of what they do together ends with that. Out at a movie? Threatened by harpies? Grocery shopping? Everything eventually ends in orgasms. Derek wonders what his life has become. Especially when he watches his… so boyfriend is a little too high school, partner sounds like they belong in a law firm and mate is just a bad paranormal romance novel term. They’ve been dancing around it, not putting a name on it. They’re together. 

And if Derek has anything to say about it, they’re together permanently. He should maybe suggest a trip to Canada. Massachusetts. Maybe he should track down some Californian legislators and show his teeth. No one else should ever get to see this, because Stiles is basically walking porn and he belongs to Derek.

“I can hear you being smug.” Stiles’s voice floats from the kitchen and Derek steps around the door. Stiles waves, before sucking his fingertips into his mouth again. His tongue dips out to catch the smear of melted chocolate that swirled around a knuckle. The persistent swipes fail to clean off the stain and Stiles sucks even more of his fingers into his mouth, pursing his lips, hollowing his cheeks. Stiles is cooking. Baking.

Derek is looking forward to this one ending up in sex.

The kitchen is a mess, cookie trays and ingredients and spills and cooling racks scattered over ever surface. The sink’s full of used dishes. Stiles, himself, has come off no better, floury handprints on his jeans, smears of something on his t-shirt. His hair is the bit of him that isn’t in complete disarray and Derek has to clench his hand by his side to stop himself ruffling it up. “Cookies?”

Stiles shrugs. Derek hadn’t even expected to have him home already. He is half sure that when Stiles left in the morning, he’d said he had a meeting or mandatory training or something after school. 

“Good day?” Stiles turns his back and prods at the mix in the bowl. Derek grunts and drifts closer. Looks like plain choc chip. It also looks almost ready. Ready enough that Stiles could stop right there… Derek likes the way his hands look on Stiles’s hips, the way Stiles leans back into him. It makes him ache a little. He would have liked his mom to see him like this, Laura. They would have liked Stiles.

“You’re home early.” Stiles smells mainly of baking ingredients but there’s an undercurrent of stress and worry in the way he holds his shoulders, a bitterness in his scent.

“School stuff. Budgets.” Stiles pokes viciously at the dough, smashing it out of the neat round. Derek runs his hand down Stiles’s arms and rests his palms over Stiles’s hands. For all that Stiles is taller than him and has broadened out considerably since Derek first met him, Derek still feels like he can hold all of Stiles and protect him from the world. Like he’s supposed to do. Because Stiles is his.

The oven timer shrills through the kitchen and Derek places a quick kiss on Stiles’s neck. “I’m going to take a shower. Tidy up.”

 

Stiles is leaning against the doorway when Derek comes out of the bathroom. Their apartment isn’t huge, for all that Derek could afford more. Stiles insists they contribute equally, as much as he can. But he’s still in his first year of teaching and has all those student loans and Derek would just give Stiles everything but Stiles insists. It caused a fight, which wasn’t their first and wasn’t their last but it had been memorable.

Especially since it ended in sex as well. Derek worries that he’s becoming a little single minded.

Stiles follows him through to the bedroom, across their narrow hallway. He’s nibbling at one of his fingernails, eyes dark as he lets his eyes roll up and down Derek’s towel clad form. It’s pretty much for this reason and this reason only that Derek doesn’t walk around the bed to grab his comb from his nightstand. Instead he stretches across the bed, nudging the towel loose. It falls to the duvet as he reaches, balancing on one knee. The satisfied sigh from Stiles is good but the sudden rise in his heartbeat, the sweet note in his scent and the sound of his feet scrambling across the floor makes Derek even happier.

He stops reaching for the comb and drops his hand, pulling open the drawer and fishing out the lube. Stiles makes an oof sound when it hits his chest but doesn’t complain. “You want to turn over?”

“You decide.” Derek is happy to let Stiles chose, particularly because he makes a soft sound and his heart skips a beat. He’s even happier when Stiles leans over to finally run his hands over Derek, starting at his ankles and getting no further than the curve of his ass. Stiles digs his fingers in, massaging. Derek raised his other leg to the bed, spreading his knees wide and settling as Stiles let slip a small moan. Obviously Derek didn’t know what he looked like but he’d had Stiles in this position and he knew exactly what effect it had on him. He widened his stance when he felt the bed dip as Stiles climbed closer.

“Yeah, so good for me.” Stiles sounded kinda shaky but his grip on Derek doesn’t waver. It’s even better when he leans forward and bites, teeth sinking into Derek’s ass. It’s that which makes Derek finally let out a gasp of his own. His own dick is hard – rock hard – but all that seems distant to the way Stiles feels brushing up behind him, fully dressed. Stiles bites down again before using his grip on Derek’s ass to expose his hole. 

Stiles likes to eat him out. Derek’s more than happy to indulge. He loves it when Stiles gets him sloppy and wet and opens him up with spit and his fingers and nothing else. He can take it. Stiles starts slowly, little kitten licks, just using the very tip of his tongue. It tricks Derek into relaxing, sends shivers up his spine, starts him shaking apart and makes him tighten his fists into the sheets to stop him reaching for his own cock. He doesn’t want this to be over too soon. That’s when Stiles moves to broad swipes of his tongue. It’s warm and wet and sloppy and Derek spreads his legs even wider.

“You’re good for me, so good.” Stiles croons as he pulls back. Derek hears a sucking sound and he realizes exactly what’s happening. Stiles has his fingers in his mouth. Derek cranes his neck, happy to watch as Stiles makes a show of it, tongue flicking between the digits, his mouth red and raw looking. Derek hasn’t even kissed him and Stiles mouth looks like it has been subjected to a long make out session, lips slick and puffy and so, so red. Derek has to drop his forehead to the sheets, like his neck won’t support his head anymore. It gets him even more worked up when Stiles works the split-soaked finger in, using his tongue to make it even wetter.

It becomes a bit of a blur after that. Stiles works his way up to two fingers, twisting and just this side of too dry as he pants and licks and moans as Derek just takes it. Stiles pulls back to fumble his own pants open and his cock brushes against Derek’s thigh when Stiles leans over to kiss him, suck a mark that vanishes as quickly as Stiles makes it on Derek’s shoulder. Stiles’s cock leaves a wet trail but it’s not slick enough, not yet.

“Let me-“ Derek starts. Stiles leans his forehead against the center of Derek’s back, right on his tattoo. His tongue dips out to lick up some of the sweat Derek knows he’s coated in, salty and dirty and ready for Stiles. His cock just wants a hand, the occasional brush of the sheets nothing more than a tease. A tease as bad as Stiles.

“Yeah?” The word is whispered into his skin but Derek can hear it clear as a bell. “What do you want, Derek?” Another soft kiss.

“I want to suck you.” The words rush out of Derek all tumbled up, jumbled together. But Stiles moves, slithers across the bed and then he’s standing in front of Derek, holding his t-shirt out of the way, his pants open and his underwear shoved down. Derek’s completely naked and Stiles is nearly full dressed – he still has shoes on – and he’s just got his cock out and that’s it. Derek groans around Stiles’s cock as Stiles winds his fingers in Derek’s damp hair, holding on as Derek slobbers over Stiles’s cock. It’s not like he’d trying to get Stiles to come. He definitely doesn’t want that. Instead he wants Stiles to be wet and ready to fuck him.

“So good for me,” Stiles repeats, his voice low and disbelieving. Derek flicks his eyes up, watching the way Stiles licks his lips like he’s looking at something edible, delicious and ready to eat. They’ve made some many big bad wolf jokes to each other that it shouldn’t be funny anymore but Derek thinks Stiles looks to be the wolfish one here and now. “Fuck.” Stiles draws the word out, popping the final ck sound. It sends a punch of heat through him and Derek lets Stiles’s cock slip out.

“Yeah, you should do that. Now.” He tries not to sound impatient but he’s probably missing it by a million miles. He needs Stiles’s cock, his long, perfect, gorgeous cock, in him as often and as many times as possible. Stiles grins, his face lighting up with the kind of wide grin that always presages trouble. “Or I could just get on that myself. Where’s that green…?” 

Stiles flings himself across the bed and scoots around until he’s pressed up against Derek. It’s not graceful or elegant or even, no way around it, sexy. But it’s Stiles and Stiles is Derek’s and that’s all that matters. He might even be muttering – or singing – to himself under his breath. He dips down to swipe his tongue over Derek’s hole again before he pressed up close behind Derek and lined up. The rough brush of his jeans, the press of his zipper against Derek’s bare skin makes him shiver again. 

Derek holds on to the sheets again as Stiles pushes in, grabbing at anything to ground himself. He’s had Stiles finger him for hours before, work him open with a plug, the whole nine yards, and it still feels like this – too much, not enough. It’s them, just them, joined together in this kind of irrevocable, intense way.

And, yeah, it feels amazing.

Stiles starts slow, shallow thrusts. Then when he leans back and spits to make the rough slide just a little smoother, Derek knows he’s not going to last much longer. “Faster,” he gasps out.

Stiles obeys. It’s basically the only time he obeys Derek. It’s not so much obeying, admittedly, as giving in to something that’s very close to begging. He thrusts harder, shifts a little, and uses all the other times they’ve done this to hit Derek’s prostate. “You gonna come on my cock?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Derek’s chanting. He would probably say anything to get Stiles to keep doing this, keep working him over time and again. Stiles’s fingers shift from where he’s gripping Derek’s hip and brush close to where his dick is taking Derek apart. It’s too much, the idea of Stiles just watching him take it, and Derek can’t hold off his orgasm any longer. He shouts out something as he comes and he hears Stiles groan as he feels and hears and smells him come. It’s good. Derek will smell like Stiles to any of the pack even more than usual for the next few days. 

 

He’s sprawled out, belly down, unable to move. Stiles is sitting up against the headboard with his legs kicked out over Derek’s ass and legs, and Derek has his hand held tight. Stiles’s heartbeat is slow to return to normal.

“Why all the cookies?” Derek asks. He’s idly wondering if Stiles will mind him sucking a little on one of his fingers. It’s not that far away from his mouth. And it’s almost like Stiles’s oral obsession is rubbing off on him a little. But he knows it’s mainly because it’s a Stiles obsession for him. He settles for rubbing his cheek against Stiles’s hand and placing a quick kiss against his fingers.

“Fundraiser.” Stiles leans back against the sheets. “They’ll probably taste all wrong because it was angry baking.”

“Hmm.” Derek kisses Stiles’s hand again, tongue dipping out to lick along one of the slim fingers. “Bet they’ll be fine. Not taste as good as you.”

Stiles laughs then and tugs and pulls Derek until they’re lying side by side, curled into each other. “We’re fucking domestic. This is not right.”

Derek just kisses him. He doesn’t want to tell Stiles just how right it feels, not now. That’ll keep for later.


End file.
